


pocket full of posies

by bloodredpomegranate



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Dick Grayson is Robin, Metaphors, The Flying Graysons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredpomegranate/pseuds/bloodredpomegranate
Summary: There is a thin line between flying and falling.
Kudos: 19





	pocket full of posies

**Author's Note:**

> So this doesn't really have a specific fandom. I wrote this with Young Justice!Dick in mind, but its really vague so it can basically be in whatever universe you want. Go wild, man.

There is a thin line between flying and falling. Two lines, really, and a wooden bar that rests comfortably in chalked hands. Two lovebirds fly through the air while their young chick waits in the nest. A crowd marvels as the pair dances along the line like a tightrope, though that is not their act. Then, _snap_. The line is cut, the flyers are falling, and their child is screaming. His parents are falling down, his heart is falling to pieces, his world is falling apart. Tears fall down his face as a man, a shadow, offers him something. A chance. A hope. A lifeline. 

There is a thin line between falling and flying. Between soaring through Gotham and plummeting into its merciless depths. A little robin swings through the night sky, flipping over and under and around this line. He is suspended in air for a moment of infinity, waiting, hovering over the edge of falling. Then _zip_ , the line catches on the next rooftop and he’s back to flying until the next moment steals his breath, and the next and the next. A bat flies alongside him, treading the line much more carefully, and what an odd pair they make. A laughing, cackling bird and a stoic, silent bat, swinging gracefully through the night. Shoot, swing, release. _Pew_ , _swish, zip_.

(But one day, it will go like this. _Swoosh_ , _snip_ , and the line will snap, and the bird will fall. Only this time, there will be no waiting, no laughing, only an eternity before he hits the ground. Like father, like son. Like parents, like child. Imitation is the purest form of flattery, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a steaming pile of unrefined garbage. I wrote this spur of the moment, I've barely edited it, and it's so pretentious it makes me wanna gag. I have no clue why I'm posting it other than the fact that it's late and I'm supposed to be doing work or going to sleep. I think I'll try to clean it up and edit it later but no promises. Tell me what you think of this mess in the comments. Ciao.


End file.
